


Drunks and Mad Men

by AlmostSilent



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Getting Together, In Vino Veritas, M/M, Pining, again this is R we're talking about, because this is R we're talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmostSilent/pseuds/AlmostSilent
Summary: Grantaire's habit of drinking too much has finally betrayed him...or has it?In Vino Veritas, right?(Grantaire says some things while drunk, Enjolras reacts)
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Drunks and Mad Men

**Author's Note:**

> I realised I had a few works finished that I never posted. I have no idea why I never posted them, so here this one for you. This was written in 2014, so try not to judge it too harshly :P
> 
> Beta'd only by Grammarly and I'm gonna be honest, I didn't do a proper read-through of this. So if there are any glaring mistakes, please let me know.
> 
> Also, I'll fix the summary and give this a better title at some point.

Grantaire was sat at the bar alone, his friends were somewhere around but he'd lost track of them four drinks ago. He knew he was fast approaching his limit and soon he'd barely be able to stand upright, but still, he kept on drinking.

It had started with another of Enjolras' speeches. There was always some injustice to fight, some wrong he needed to right. Enjolras just didn't see how pointless and futile it was, but Grantaire did. He tried to tell Enjolras, but that stubborn bastard only rolled his eyes and told Grantaire to just 'have another drink why don't you' and so he did. He drank and drank and drank.

For a while it even helped, made the feelings that plagued him go nearly numb. Grantaire wasn't always such a cynic, he was an artist, after all, he used to be a fervent idealist. But then he'd seen what life can do to a person, he's an artist after all.

“Might want to slow down R,” a soft voice said from his shoulder. Enjolras had learned the hard way that scolding Grantaire only made him drink more, so now he tried to be more gentle. Unfortunately, Enjolras wasn't good at expressing himself when he wasn't fighting for a cause. When it was just him and his feelings, Enjolras had some trouble.

“Don't worry 'bout it Apollo,” Grantaire said, trying his best not to slur his words, and failing, but when you considered just how much he’d had to drink he was probably lucky to be standing. Lucky, or he’d built up a scary level of alcohol tolerance. Whatever.

“I do worry though,” and the sincerity in his friend’s voice gave Grantaire pause.

“Yeah, well you worry too much,” Grantaire laughed it off, “you're like everyone's mother,” it came out more accusatory than he'd planned. He secretly loved it when Enjolras worried about everyone when Enjolras worried about him. It was no secret that Enjolras loved and cared about his friends, Grantaire felt a thrill whenever he was counted among their number. It was pathetic, but such was his life.

“And yet you're still drinking yourself into an early grave,” Enjolras chided. He sighed and ran a hand through his mess of golden curls. Grantaire's fingers twitched to do the same, to cover his friend’s mouth with own until Enjolras had him pinned to some wall and-

But no, Enjolras would never allow it. Even if he wasn't so consumed with his activism and his political theory classes that Grantaire could never have taken seriously enough to sit through. Even if Enjolras had displayed the slightest interest in men, or anyone for that matter. Grantaire knew that Enjolras could never be with him, he was a drunk and a cynic and Enjolras could never love him that way. So Grantaire drank, and pretended he wasn't hopelessly in love with a man who barely even tolerated him.

“Come on Grantaire, let's get you home,” Enjolras said, taking Grantaire under the arm and leading him away from the bar.

“But I didn't get to finish my drink,” Grantaire pouted. He didn't feel nearly drunk enough yet to deal with this.

“What a shame,” Enjolras replied sarcastically.

Suddenly they were out in the rain and the downpour did little but soak Grantaire's tangle of curls, barely covered by his favourite beanie hat. The rain-slicked his hair to his face, but it wasn't enough to lessen his intoxication, not really.

Enjolras supported his weight all the way to the car, before unceremoniously dumping him into the passenger's seat.

“My Apollo, what would I do without you?” Grantaire laughed, his words still slurred and slow.

“Drown in your own vomit probably,” Enjolras retorted, barely loud enough for Grantaire to hear, “I can't let you go home alone like this.”

Grantaire was the only one of them who lived alone, no one could put up with him for too long and everyone eventually moved out. So, Grantaire supplemented his money any way he could and decided just to live alone, it was easier that way he said, no one to nag him about his drinking or the unsociable hours he kept. Mostly it was just lonely though.

And while this was not the drunkest Grantaire had ever been, not by a long shot, it might be the drunkest his friends had ever seen him. He was at least ashamed enough to hide the worst of his drinking from them. So Enjolras couldn't bring himself to dump Grantaire at home and not look back, his conscience wouldn't allow it.

“You'll stay at mine for the night,” Enjolras declared as he slipped gracefully into the driver's seat. “No one else is going to be home tonight anyway,” Enjolras lived with Jehan and he was spending the night with Courfeyrac so, at least for tonight, they were Marius' problem.

“No,” Grantaire said, the bubble of hysteria dampened by alcohol. “Can't,” He shook his head. Of course, he couldn't explain to Enjolras why he couldn't spend the night, why that was such a bad, bad idea.

“Don't be an idiot R,” Enjolras said, his eyes on the road as he drove. Oh how Grantaire loved those eyes, “You'll stay with me tonight and I'll drop you home in the morning,” and there was clearly going to be no discussion on the matter.

Grantaire suddenly felt like throwing up, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. There was no way he could spend the night in Enjolras' home, this wasted and not make terrible decisions. He'd accidentally say something, or he'd try to grope Enjolras in the night or something else equally as horrifying. It was then that he remembered the flask that was tucked in his pocket, and quickly took it out and drained it before Enjolras could notice.

Grantaire woke up the next morning with an aching headache and only the vaguest memories of what had happened the night before. He thought vaguely that he remembered Enjolras driving him home, but that was about it.

He turned over in bed, determined to go back to sleep until his hangover was gone. But the warm body that was laying next to him jolted him out of his drowsiness. He sat bolt upright in the bed, his head throbbing painfully in time with his rising heartbeat.

Enjolras smiled sleepily up at him, his bare chest glowing in the morning light. His eyes were closed but Grantaire could tell he was at least partially awake. Panic flooded him. He was in bed with Enjolras, wearing nothing but his boxers.

“Oh shit,” Grantaire groaned. Flashes from last night filtered in through his memory. Enjolras hadn't driven him home, they were at Enjolras' place. “Oh shit,” Grantaire knew this would happen eventually. He knew he'd fuck it all up somehow.

“R? What's wrong?” Enjolras has opened his eyes and is now frowning a little. God, he looked so sexy, half-naked and lying right there. Grantaire quickly jumped out of the bed. This was all wrong, it was just so many levels of wrong.

“What happened?” He asked, panic rising in him even more. “How did I get here?” _In your bed._ He wanted to add. He wanted to ask if they'd slept together, but was afraid of the answer. Oh god, what if they had. What if he'd taken advantage of his friend in the night. Oh god.

“Don't you remember?” Enjolras asked with a slight smile, he made no move to get up, or to cover himself. “You were drunk, I let you crash here. And there was no way I was letting you puke on my sofa,” he laughed. Finally sitting up a little.

“Okay, that's all fine,” Grantaire nodded, “but where are my clothes?” he asked in a stage whisper. Enjolras only smiled at him as one would smile at something particularly amusing. Something was different now though, some edge of fondness Grantaire had never seen on Enjolras’ face before, and definitely not directed at him.

“You took them off,” Enjolras pointed to a mass on the floor, and sure enough they were Grantaire's clothes. “You were ranting something about being an idiot and making mistakes and possibly something about groping,” Enjolras shook his head. His expression was still mystifying, somehow getting even more fond. It was messing with Grantaire’s poor hungover mind.

“And that’s...that’s all?” Grantaire asked more than a little hesitantly.

“Well, there was this ode to my eyes that was quite good considering how drunk you were, very flattering,” and Enjolras looked far too amused. Grantaire was desperately trying not to have a panic attack, “Also I think at some point you got confused about where you were and who I was, because you kept saying, and this is a direct quote ‘don’t tell Enjolras how much I love him, it’s a secret kay?’ and then there was a lot of rambling that I couldn’t quite understand,” he shrugs casually. And Grantaire is definitely panicking now.

“Right well that’s, I can explain all of that,” and he starts to pull on his clothes hurriedly, planning on pretty much running away from this whole situation. He knew this was a bad idea, he distinctly remembers thinking that last night, knowing this was a mistake. It’s probably fortunate he doesn’t remember the rest of it though, for the sake of whatever dignity he might have left.

“I don’t really think it needs explaining,” Enjolras was smiling, why is he smiling? “You did a lot of that last night. I think I’m pretty much up to speed now.”

“No see, you can’t trust the ramblings of a drunk or a mad man, and I happen to be both, so it’s probably best we all just…forget this ever happened,” part of his brain knows how futile this is, the idea that Enjolras will just let this go, but he has to try.

“You’re the one who’s always saying ‘in vino veritas’,” Enjolras is still smiling! What is happening?

“And I was probably drunk at the time,” Grantaire cries a little desperately. He takes a few deep breaths, finally having tugged his jeans and t-shirt on, “Look, I’m not a brave person, I’m a coward damn near a hundred percent of the time, and this is seriously pushing the limits of how much I can take without turning and running straight through the door. So, can we end this conversation, part like the semi-civilised beings we play pretend at and just...leave it at that?”

Enjolras doesn’t say anything right away, but he does stand up, revealing low-slung pyjama pants, somehow his bare feet are what catch Grantaire’s attention. He’s never seen Enjolras without shoes on before, it makes him seem far more human and vulnerable than even his bare chest does. It also causes a tightness to R’s throat that he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

“Let me make myself clear,” Enjolras finally says when he’s close enough that if Grantaire reached out he could probably touch skin, he doesn’t, but he could. “I am not mocking you, or scorning you. I think you’re the most infuriating, brilliant, ridiculous, intelligent, amazing, beautiful human being I’ve ever met. You constantly confuse and confound me and ever since I first met you I’ve wanted to be able to crawl into that brain of yours to try and figure out how on earth it works. I want to know you Grantaire, I want to know all of you, everything you have to share. I’ve never been in love before, that’s true, but I think perhaps that does in fact come closest to describing and explaining how I feel for you.”

And oh gods but he’s still smiling, yet there’s a seriousness in his eyes that prevents Grantaire from doubting him, as it always does, Grantaire can never seem to doubt Enjolras’ convictions. Of course, that doesn’t stop him doubting the rest of humanity, but not Enjolras, never Enjolras.

“I don’t...I don’t think I understand,” is all he can think to say. Nothing is making sense anymore, the world has flipped on its axis and left him reeling.

“Then perhaps, this will help.”

It’s the only warning he gets before soft, full lips are covering his own. It’s a chaste kiss, no more than a prolonged press of lips, neither of them have brushed their teeth and it isn’t the moment for passionate or enthusiastic kisses. It feels overwhelmingly right, like no other lips were ever meant to touch his. He can’t help the happy little sigh that escapes when Enjolras pulls away.

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he has to open them to see Enjolras’ smiling face. And shit he’s beautiful, smiling so wide and happy and so close Grantaire could count every shade of blue in his mesmerising eyes.

“Yeah Apollo, I think I’m starting to get it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Kudo and Comments are always appreciated x


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